Falling In: America's Trial
by TheGirlWithFarTooManyIdeas
Summary: One-shot, slightly AU during Civil War. A young street girl is called to testify at Steve Roger's trial in the wake of the Super Registration Act. She has a very negative opinion of the people trying to imprison their greatest hero, and proceeds to tell all the gullible citizens exactly how she feels. T for pre-teen swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Falling In**

**Tyene: (in a different set of armor) What the heck?**

**Wanda: Oh, you're in comic book continuity now. Different backstories and different plots, so different armor and temperament.**

**Tyene: Huh.**

**Wanda: I wrote this one shot out of frustration, mostly, after reading Civil War and a few of the lead ins to Dark Reign. I love Marvel Comics, but sometimes I wonder why the heroes even bother. I don't own Marvel or anything of theirs.**

**At the Courthose**

The trail of Captain America.

And here I thought that these people couldn't get any stupider.

My name is Carrie Richter. I'm twelve years old, a street girl who was picked up by SHIELD to serve as a witness for Captain America's trial for violations of the Super Registration Act. An act that I, by the way, think is bullshit.

I'm pretty sure that this is meant to be a joke. The prosecution will have a bunch of posh, well dressed politicans and soldiers spouting the new law against the _symbol of America, _while the war hero gets a single, solitary street girl to deliver testimonial to his character.

What an utter farce.

It feels like an even bigger joke when I have to stand up on the podium. I need to stand on a box because the damn thing is so big. The guy interrogating me is Senator Kelly of all people – does he even have a law degree? What the hell is that idiot doing here?

I suppose when you think about it this is just an extension of the registration he's been pushing for mutants to undergo for years now.

I don't have a good feeling about any of this. I couldn't believe I had to testify to the good will for someone who had saved me countless times, both a few times personally and many others protecting the world at large from the chaos that's always at our doorstep.

And I've finally had my fill.

/

"I want to help you."

It takes me a minute to let those words sink in. I can't describe what I'm feeling-I can't even tell if I'm angry or sad or what. I have no idea what to do. So I laugh.

I laugh so hard my shoulders shake and my sides hurt. My eyes start burning. "You wanna help me." I repeat, coughing on the saliva getting caught in the back of my throat. "Where have I heard that before?"

"Carrie, don't be unreasonable-"

"Unreasonable? You threw me – an unarmed twelve year old – out onto the streets because super-villains follow me everywhere, I've nearly died a million times since I came here, and you – you – you-" I choke and cough. "You-you're telling me not to be _unreasonable? _Do you call this unreasonable, Kelly? What is unreasonable about this, Kelly, because I can't see it."

"I understand what you're feeling-"

"Yeah. I understand what you're feeling. Haven't heard that one before." My eyes are burning. "You can't even _begin _to comprehend how I feel about this fucking mess, you don't even _care_. If you decide to follow it up with the classic 'greater good' and for a better world philosophy, Asgard help me...I'll rip your fucking throat out. If you had anything-anything resembling empathy for me, I wouldn't be _standing in this shit right now._"

"You're surrounded by people who are trained. Who have powers. I have neither. You've probably read more statistic boards than you could count, you know that where I am is the worst place you can be, and that's before the supervillains show up. So why-why, why would you do this to me? I don't understand."

_People need someone to blame for their problems because they never want to accept their own sins. Hell, if we lived in their cozy little houses in front of their wide-screened tvs with their expensive chocolate, wouldn't we think the same way?_

It hits me quickly, as I look up at his face, the man who rallied people behind him to make the world a 'safer place', free of mutants and superheroes.

And suddenly the extent of the betrayal becomes clear.

I raise a shaking hand.

"Actually...that's the worst part. I do understand. I don't even exist to you. I'm expendable. Replaceable. You could throw me in a mental asylum the minute I looked at you cross-eyed and no one would heed my screams. No-one would ever take your word over mine, why should they? You're the champion of normal people. I'm some twelve-year-old street brat who can barely keep herself alive. I'm that necessary casualty whenever someone fire-bombs a criminal hideout, because what's one stupid street kid over catching those bastards?"

"Carrie-" I've heard that tone, too. It's that exasperated sigh when you aren't doing what an adult wants you do. It's the 'tone' they use whenever you get angry or sad. It's the 'tone' they use whenever you do something they don't want you to.

"Is that what it means to be a hero? To see p-people as a series of n-numbers? Do you know what it's like when we're about to d-die...? H-How scared we a-are...?" I shake my head slowly. I'm trembling so badly I'm surprised I can still stand.

"M-maybe that's where I made m-my mistake...I trusted you. I thought that you'd know what to do, that I'd be safe under your guard. B-But...it's not like that, is it?"

I can feel the people watching me. It's strangely quiet. Steve is watching me from the side, worried. Worried for me, when he's about to get trialed for being a hero.

For saving their ungrateful lives.

...Worried for me.

I turn back to Kelly. "That was my mistake. I was under the impression that we could stop those crazies without stooping to their level. Without backstabbing and manipulating. Without betraying and using people l-like weapons that are thrown away when they've served their purpose."

"Could the witness please not make a scene-"

My jaw catches in sheer rage, and the next thing I know, I'm screaming.

"SO WHAT IF I MAKE A SCENE? IT WOULD DAMN WELL SERVE YOU RIGHT IF I MAKE A FUCKING SCENE! I risked my life-everyone you've locked away risked their lives on a daily basis to **keep you safe!"**

I glare out into the crowd, into their frightened faces.** "**I didn't have to go into that ship, nearly get dissected alive and screaming just for a chance to turn it around...I could have walked away! I could have said it was someone else's problem, like you always do! But I didn't! I saved your lives! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THAT! WOULD YOU RATHER BE DEAD?"

"Carrie, you must calm-"

"**YOU! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" **Kelly staggers backwards as though I had punched him in the face. There's a gasp in the crowd. **"AND LISTEN! JUST! FOR! ONCE! IN! YOUR! GODDAMN! LIFE!"**

I didn't realize my voice could get that high. Fascinating.

"Yeah, people got hurt. Yeah, buildings were destroyed. Yeah, some people died. But you know who did that? Oh yeah – the **villains**! The psychopaths you imbeciles are now _employing _to _protect _you! How STUPID can you GET? WHAT ABOUT THIS SITUATION MAKES YOU THINK THEY'RE NOT GOING TO TURN AROUND AND KILL YOU BECAUSE THAT'S THEY'RE IDEA OF FUN?"

I shake my head. I'm breathing so heavily my lungs hurt with effort. "That's your problem. You all hate the truth. You're in love with lies. You can shape lies. It gives you the illusion that you're in control. That your stupid fuckups are someone else's fault. That someone else was twisting you and using you and bullying you, so every _retarded _thing you've done is somehow justified. Then you can pretend that all the suffering your causing doesn't exist. You throw blame around to everyone. Everyone but you. It makes you so easy to control you can't even see it."

I take a shuddering breath and blink hard. I can barely see.

"Well here's the truth. Are you ready for this? Are you ready? It was _you. _Every dark thought, every betrayal, every backstab, it was all you. Fuck – even some of these supervillains who terrorize you wouldn't even exist if not for your betrayals. Dr. Doom is still in charge of his country. Norman Osborn threw a teenaged girl of a bridge and he's still at large. The Abomination destroyed a hospital – with everyone still inside. Why are they still around?

Because you make it so easy."

I've stopped crying.

"YOUR BIGOTRY MAKES IT SO EASY FOR THEM! YOUR STUPIDITY BLINDS YOU TO THE OBVIOUS! YOU'RE SO DESPERATE TO FEEL _SAFE _AT THE EXPENSE OF THE PEOPLE FIGHTING FOR YOU THAT YOU'LL ACCEPT WHATEVER **BULLSHIT YOU'RE FED!**"

"Ever heard the phrase 'like lambs to the slaughter?' That's you. Except you don't have the innocence the lambs do. You walk straight into it with this sense of entitlement, like you deserve to be saved although you've treated them like shit and are going to throw it right back in their faces the minute you're on steady ground."

Heeeeeere's your sign.

Some part of me is waiting in the back of my mind for some smooth, slimy justification for everything, for someone to scream about how stupid I'm being. For someone to lecture me on how 'childishly naive' I'm being, and how I need to be more 'careful' when dealing with 'freaks'.

"You've all walked right into their traps like blind **boars, **and blame someone else with it blows up in your face. You've played a stupid game that didn't need to be played, that cost hundreds—_thousands _of lives that we can't get back. And what did we get out of it? A bunch of genuine heroes rotting in a hole somewhere, and you'll be joining him the minute those villains get their collars off. What was it all for, then? What did they all die for, what did _Bobby_die for? How the hell is this a victory, Kelly, _WHERE'S THE JUSTICE YOU GUYS WERE JABBERING ABOUT?" _

God, that was a terrible way to say it. But wasn't it true?

"You make me sick. All of you." My hands are shaking. "You call this justice, but all I see is this sense of entitlement, that you've suffered something bad but that makes you 'different' so you can just do whatever. You the worst bunch of **COWARDLY** _**TRAITORS **_I'll ever meet!"

_Roger said I was deluding myself when I said that people would eventually realize that we needed help. I hadn't believed him. Not until now, anyway._

The silence is driving me nuts. I used to hate having to listen to them spew their mindless garbage but their silence is making me even more angry. It's kind of funny.

"Why the hell am I wasting my breath? You've never listened before, why would you start now? That's the only way I can think of as to how you could let all those people die for nothing, and all those people who are still alive suffer...how you could torture Kitty by make her watch Bobby die...hmph, their crying must've been annoying to you, too."

I probably took a risk bringing that up. But things are never going to get better around here, so does it really matter? The Green fucking Goblin and the Kingpin hate my guts. I've lost my ability to be scared of these people.

"I still can't understand why you would lock them up."

_these are the same people who threw bricks at Osborn to help Spider-Man save MJ. They understood then. Why? Why now?_

"Unless you've got this idea that this somehow justifies everything."

Just like Vince. Was he really convinced that killing could help us escape our hell, or was that just an attempt to ward off the guilt muddling his final moments?

"But if that's the way you want it...you wanna die _that _badly..."

I let out a torturous stream of curses before saying,

"THEN BE MY GUEST, DIRTBAG! You always had to have it your own backassward way anyhow! I hope this was fucking worth it! I hope it'll be the best fucking thing that's ever happened in your life, that you heads implode in sheer happiness, ya goddamn selfish spoiled motherfucking prick prick **PRICK! I hope you all FUCKING DIE!**"

Just as quickly as I blew up I calmed down.

I let out a small sob, completely spent. I stare out at the silent courtroom. Dozens of faces staring blankly at me. Their looks of incomprehension, shock, and maybe something else. Or maybe that was just my imagination, trying to find regret where none existed.

"Thank you for your time." The sarcasm. I almost forgot the endless sarcasm.

I gave a curt half bow before storming out of the courtroom. No one tries to stop me, although I'd expected to be dragged back for cross examination or thrown in jail for contempt for the court. Everyone gives me a wide berth. I can read their faces as they watch me go by.

They're afraid of me.

_They'll never accept us._

Really?

_They'll see trouble where it doesn't exist if they think we pose a danger to them._

A twelve year old girl with no powers. And they're afraid of me.

_Even if it costs us our lives._

I shove past the doors and out onto the streets.

I think next time I'll be taking my chances with Loki. At least then I know what to expect.

**End Chapter**

**I actually have a haphazard story plan for a rewritten Marvel Universe (because I hate a lot of the stuff connected to Marvel Universe). Mainly, I would involve a few Skull retcons. However, I think this can stand on its own. I hope everyone else who hates the Marvel citizens find this as cathartic as I did!**

**Read and Review please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Falling In: America's Trial**

**Wanda: By popular demand, after some thought, I decided to write another chapter for this. You're welcome!**

**Tyene: (shrugs) It helps keep writer's block away.**

**Wanda: A nice bonus! I do not own any Marvel properties.**

****~Two Days after Steven Rogers's trial~****

****~Carrie's POV~****

It's startling to wake up and realize you're face to face with the God of Mischief.

It took me a few seconds to process it – I woke up next to the dumpster I called a home, blinking rain away from my eyes, and saw a tall, dark haired man in a gold and green suit standing in front of me. I actually wondered if he was from social services for a second before his face clicked in my still-waking-up brain. Seriously.

"GAH!" I shrieked, scrambling to my feet.

Loki Odinson regarded me with some amusement, a lazy, easygoing smile on his face. You know, up close he didn't look much like Your Death Incoming – he actually looked pretty snazzy.

"Hello, Carrie." He said pleasantly.

I gaped back at him for a second – hey, I couldn't help it. My brain had gotten such a bad shock it had stuck a blue-screen note in my hand and shut down for repairs. Logic dictated that I should be running as fast as I could, but _somehow_ I doubted that would help.

"W-whuddya want?" I managed to squeak out.

"I caught your speech." Loki responded easily, leaning against the wall and examining me with an unreadable look in his brilliant green eyes. "I have to say...I was rather impressed."

"Buhwha?" Brilliant display of my vocabulary, I know. But that was the best I could do at the moment; and part of me was still kind of expecting him to vaporize me, or turn me into a frog, or whatever other crazy thing he would do.

"I thought you'd have trouble believing me."

That's when my jaw finally unlocked. "W-well, you _are _the God of _Lies..._and Mischief...I-I mean, why do you even-? Why-?" ...Okay, _partially _unlocked. _Forgive me_ for still being surprised.

"Because you're right." Loki said, as if he'd expected me to know that from the start. Suddenly, I was starting to understand that look in his eyes...he wasn't amused anymore, he was calm and serious. That was even more freaky then what I was expecting, to be honest. "About everything. Particularly...about why I do what I do."

"...I am?" I stared up at him.

"Mmmm." The god hummed, before snapping his fingers. I yelped as a chain and amulet appeared around my neck.

It was a green and silver crystal, and it was warm to the touch. I felt a distinct hum of power and energy under my fingers when I touched it.

"That's for you." Loki said casually, as if he gave orphan mortals handouts all the time. "You've likely upset some people with your little lecture. That will keep you safe whenever there's trouble."

And then he vanished. Just like that.

***%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%**

I'm not sure how long I stood there, staring at the pavement, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

But some time later, a couple of random people spotted me. Instead of calling the cops, they walked up, handed me a pack of gum and fifty dollars, patted me on the head and said, "You're a brave kid. Thank you for what you said."

_...Why do I have a sinking feeling in my stomach all of a sudden...?_

Carefully putting the money into my jeans pocket, I pulled my tattered hoodie over my head and started walking quickly towards the nearest library. I felt like everyone was watching me or looking for me. The streets were less crowded then usual.

It was only three blocks away, thank god or gods or whoever. I ducked past the book shelf and hurried over to the first unused computer and sat down. I opened up google and paused, my fingers hovering over the keys.

Taking a deep breath, I cautiously typed out the phrase, "_Steven Rogers Trial Freakout._"

Instantly, I got 300 million hits.

One link lead to another. My name, Carrie Richter, plastered all over the World Wide Web. Pictures of me, my tear stained and furious face, was everywhere.

Yup. My stomach was going skydiving without a parachute.

My hand shaking slightly, I clicked the first link. "From the Mouth of a Child – Street Girl calls out how fall the American Government as fallen."

It was a online newspaper article with an embedded Youtube link. My dramatic rant and exit had nearly half a billion hits and climbing.

I was mortified.

_I am so effing screwed. _

Nervously, I scrolled down and started reading the comments in the video. Then...I could hardly believe my eyes.

"_I f**king love this girl. Ripped the words right out of my mouth!"_

"_You're god damn right, Carrie. You tell those fat cats. They've turned democracy into Fascism!"_

"_Carrie, you don't know me...but I thank you so much. I'm a mutant, and I lost a lot of my former life when everyone I knew found out. Then you came around and reminded us that we're still human, that we don't deserve to be feared. Thanks to you, I'm mending fences with my dad."_

"_Just summed up why I effing despise Politics. Fuck it, I'm moving to New Zeland, and on my way out I have _this _to say – __**HEIL AMERICA!**__"_

"_It's a sad day when a street girl is the only one who notices that we've been turned into an eternal civil war, fed and encouraged by the fear and hate mongering."_

"_You're done something I didn't think was possible, Carrie. You've renewed my faith in non-mutants."_

"_I'm ashamed of myself. I've thought about this for years, but I've been too afraid of speaking up with the Daily Bugle and the politicians insisting otherwise. But, nuts, if a little girl can stand up to them then what excuse do I have?"_

"_Down with the Registration Act! I prefer to have a do-gooder around to save my neck when aliens roll up to the welcome mat again!"_

"_THANK YOU! God, I had thought everyone else had gone _insane_. I'm not the only one who realized this is bullshit after all!"_

"_I'm so glad Steve had someone on his side. He saved my life once...he and the other brave heroes of ours deserve so much better then this."_

I was floored. I swear my mouth was hanging open.

What...since when, since when did my words have impact on anyone? They always listened for a second, smiled condescendingly (more often then not with a pat on the head) and forgotten about it by the next day.

But now? Now I've gone _viral_.

My fingers numb, propelled by confusion and astonishment, I scrolled back up and looked at the article.

And I was dumbfounded. Again.

I had triggered a series of _riots _down in DC. A mob of civilians had beaten Bullseye to death with Zerg Rush tactics, killed at least two senators who had supported the Registration act, and put Maria Hill in the Emergency Ward.

Reed Richards had made a public appearance this morning in an attempt to smooth things over. But his speech was drowned out by the people booing and heckling him, with several voices demanding the release of those heroes who had been imprisoned.

I shook my head, my lips suddenly dry. I pulled back and started scanning through the other links to the trial...

My history was now public knowledge – all of it. My parents deaths in the crossfire during a Kree invasion, my various run ins with Vince's violent gang, my record. But – but that wasn't even the freakiest part.

There was a charity raising money for me – people were offering to _adopt _me, for chrissake, people I've ever heard of or met.

Including...Tony Stark.

My eyes caught onto the link. It was only twelve hours old; where had the time gone?

I moved the mouse over and clicked on it.

Another shocking, splitting headache.

The Tony Stark who had pushed the Registration Bill was a shapeshifting alien. A Skrull. The real one had finally managed to houdini his way out of the ship he had been imprisoned on and return to earth.

He'd gotten rid of his doppleganger, aaaaand was about as happy about the Registration Bill as anyone who knew anything about him expected.

Needless to say, now Richards was its only advocate among the Metahuman community.

So I sat there for a long time. Trying to figure out what I should do...or even _think_. Slowly, I got up and left the building, my hands sliding into my pockets. I paused at the corner, biting my lip and looking up at the sky.

The world was changing.

...Maybe Vince was wrong.

Maybe the world can get better. Maybe _people _can get better.

I bought myself some lunch and headed down into the subway. Hell. The tower was probably safer then the streets. At least, there was that.

**End Chapter**

**Well? What do you think? I honestly wanted the Tony of Civil War to be a Skrull. It was a perfect explanation for his character derailment, but nooo, that'd be intelligent. (grumbles)**

**Read and review please!**


End file.
